


Peaches

by mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_43110



Series: TharnType Needs More Mpreg [7]
Category: TharnType the Series (TV), เกลียดนักมาเป็นที่รักกันซะดีๆ | TharnType: The Series (TV) RPF
Genre: Action & Romance, Anger, Because of Reasons, Cute Ending, Domestic Fluff, Don't Like Don't Read, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Fights, Fluffy Ending, Grocery Shopping, Grocery Store, Happy Ending, Husbands, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mpreg, No Angst, Protectiveness, Some Humor, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Why Did I Write This?, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23227294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_43110/pseuds/mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_43110
Summary: Tharn and Type learn the hard way that being obviously pregnant does not mean that douche bags stop hitting on you.Type learns the fun way that he's not totally helpless.
Relationships: Tharn Kirigun/Type (TharnType)
Series: TharnType Needs More Mpreg [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665016
Comments: 31
Kudos: 421





	Peaches

**Author's Note:**

> Had an idea. Went with it. Bet you never thought you'd see this is a TharnType mpreg story! :)
> 
> Aka: the fic that no one asked for.
> 
> You get what you get I guess.
> 
> Anyway please enjoy!

You. Are. Fucking. _Kidding._

Type squeezed the poor pudding cups that were in his grip so hard, they almost popped. Which would have been fine. He was planning on paying for them anyway. But honestly you couldn't give less of a shit right now. He was _fucking_ pissed.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?"

Type gritted his teeth. "Don't call me sweetheart." He threatened dangerously. "I'm fine. I just forgot something." He forgot how _fucking_ ridiculous and stupid men were.

"Oh? You need any help, darling? I'd love to be in your service." A man a few years above Type's age, who was definitely not his husband actually said, right to his face.

Yeah that's right.

Type was being hit on. By a disgusting piece of filth. In the fucking _grocery store._ While he was so pregnant he was currently bigger than Europe.

"No." Type set the pudding down in his and Tharn's cart. "I don't need any sort of help from anyone, least of all some shit for brains like you."

The guy blinked, leaning back. "Um, what?"

It was the first thing he's said so far that wasn't some sort of pick up line.

"I said back the fuck off, you human garbage disposal, before I kick your ass." Type threatened, getting back over to his drive cart. Tharn was all the way over in the dairy department. Screw waiting for him. Type was leaving. Now.

"Well hold on," The guy recovered quickly. "Is that anyway to treat your future man?"

Type actually couldn't believe this. "Are you fucking blind or did you drink extra stupid juice this morning? I'm fucking pregnant you fuckwad."

The man stopped the cart with his hand, just as Type had moved an inch forward.

He laughed. "So you're a little...feisty, are you?" The guy nodded. "I can get with that. It's cute. Is that why I don't see a Mr. Overalls anywhere or?"

Type looked at his outfit. Pregnancy overalls covering a white shirt. Sue him. It was comfortable and he didn't think he had to dress up for the goddamn errand run to the store.

"Fuck you." Type spit at the man. "Get your damn hand off my cart before I do the world a favor run you over. Though touching your skin would be an insult to these tires."

He really missed being able to move credibly without Tharn's help. This asshole would've had a fist across his mouth a long time ago if he could.

The man responded by setting his other hand on the cart and smirking. "Oops." He laughed. "What are you gonna do now, princess?"

Type was so angry he was shaking. He couldn't remember the last time he was this mad. Not even that awful fucking dinner with P'San had him this angry.

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do," Type said lowly as he released his white knuckled grip, "I'm gonna shove this can," he pulled his can of peaches out of the cart, "so far up your dipshit ass, you're gonna puke the label."

The man's smirk only deepend. He seemed to enjoy Type's anger. He certainly enjoyed provoking him.

"Why don't you come on over here and prove it, baby?"

_That_ was it.

Type stepped forward nefariously. He reared back the can in his hand and growled as he suddenly kicked him as hard as he could in the shin.

The subversion worked beautifully. Type knew this dickhead would've expected the swing and likely caught his arm. Instead, the man got a powerful kick from a college seasoned soccer ace to the leg.

He bent over, groaning in pain and _that's_ when Type swung.

He struck the man with his can of peaches across his jaw.

The man was down. He didn't know whether to hold his shin or his face but he did know, it seemed, what it meant to moan, shriveled up in pain.

"Ai'Type!" Type straightened up to see his husband just turning into the isle carrying their milk, eggs, and butter, staring at him with the definition of worry etched across his features.

Type glared at his untimely husband. "Ai'shit Tharn!" He set the peaches back in their cart. "Where the fuck were you?"

Tharn ran over to him, setting the stuff down, taking only a second to glance at the groaning man curled up on the floor.

"What happened?!" Tharn asked in distress.

He moved Type and the cart away from the guy, turning them around and getting the hell out of there quickly.

///

"He was being a fucking creep." Type sneered once Tharn stopped them in the bakery area of the store. "And my husband," Type hit Tharn on the chest for emphasis, "wasn't anywhere to be seen, so," he shrugged, "I dealt with it."

"You hit a man with- with a can of peaches?" Tharn asked. "In the face?"

Type nodded. "After I kicked him, yes."

"What was he doing?" Tharn asked. He grew very serious and curled his fists. "Did he-- did he touch you?"

"No, no." Type grabbed Tharn's arm to calm him down. "I didn't let him get that far. But he didn't seem above it." Type remarked. "He was just making disgusting comments-- seriously, I thought being pregnant was like some universal 'don't fuck with me' sign? Where was my sign?" Type caressed his bump. "I don't blame you baby, men are disgusting."

Tharn stepped up and hugged Type very abruptly.

"Oh, what-- Ai'Tharn," Type pushed him, "what are you doing, get off!"

Tharn didn't listen to him, just held him. "I'm glad you're both okay."

Type relaxed. Maybe he should give Tharn some leeway here. He did just assault some schmuck with fruit.

"Okay, okay." Type patted his sides. "We're fine. We're okay, Tharn. I'm not some helpless damsel. If I wasn't so pregnant, it would've been worse for him, you know." Type also tapped his bump. "Again, not baby's fault."

Tharn snorted and nodded. He released Type with a kiss to the forehead. "I know it would've been a lot worse." Tharn held Type's hand. He looked down remorsefully. "I'm sorry."

"Ai'shit Tharn." Type sighed softly and rolled his eyes. His free hand went up to Tharn's cheek. "It's not your fault either. Just don't be late next time."

Tharn nodded. "There won't be a next time." He promised. "I'm not letting either of you out of my sight ever again."

Type groaned because he knew Tharn was dead serious. He rested his forehead on Tharn's chest in defeat. "Stupid, overprotective husband."

Tharn began petting Type's hair. "Yes sir."

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, weird addition to the series. Idk what to tell you, I thought it was cute. And I like that Type handled it on his own. He's still got it, you know?
> 
> Maybe next time we'll get to see papa Tharn save the day but who knows? ;)))
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
